


Orbit Coffee, Where The Baristas Are Hotter Than The Drinks

by cognitioncorsair



Category: Orbiting Human Circus of the Air (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2018-09-25 06:50:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9808055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cognitioncorsair/pseuds/cognitioncorsair
Summary: *On indefinite hiatus*It's the year 2017, and deep in the heart of Paris, in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower itself, lies a small coffee shop, run by an eccentric ginger and his attractively responsible best friend, and frequented by a small, musically gifted janitor. Watch as their drinks, banter, and sex appeal draw customers from all across the City of Lights, bringing adventures (and misadventures) along with them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, a coffee shop AU, how original :)
> 
> This is, like, my first true multi-chapter fic, so I guess we'll see how it goes?
> 
> Enjoy!!!

“Get  _ out _ .”

Julian looked up from his phone, blinking sleepily. “What?” The late-afternoon sunlight shone in through the window against which he was leaning, lazily scrolling through various social media and occasionally chatting with the people near him. He had been doing this all day, in fact, arriving at the coffee shop around ten a.m. and only stepping out for a minute to make a phone call around noon.

“You heard me.” John Cameron stood over the young man, fists clenched. Julian stared at him, wide-eyed.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Cameron, did I do something?”

John huffed, pointing at a piece of paper taped to the wall above his head. “Loitering, _ Julian _ , loitering. ‘Zero tolerance for loitering’, says it right there.”

Julian looked curiously up at the sign, which had previously said ‘ZERO TOLERANCE FOR LITTERING’; one of the T’s had been crossed out with a thick black sharpie, and an extra O added. He glanced back at John, who was still glaring at him.

“But I’m not, um, loitering?” He held up a half-empty coffee cup with “Jules” scrawled on it, alongside a small heart. “I just bought this twenty minutes ago?”

John snatched the cup from his hands. “Tell me who served you,” he demanded, shifting his glare to the inanimate object (or, more accurately, the drawing on it). “My god, what is this? Incredibly unprofessional.” He spun around, searching for Leticia Saltier, who was leaning over the counter smirking at him. “Who wrote this?” he yelled at her across the crowded room. She shrugged.

“You are supposed to be ze barista, John, you should pay better attention to what goes on in your shop.” She shook her head, tight curls bouncing around her face. “I am just ze manager. Hm, maybe if you did not run ze business into ze ground so often, I would be able to pay attention to ze customers instead of fixing your problems, no?”

John scowled, turning back to Julian. Looking straight into his eyes, he took a long sip of the other man’s coffee, brow furrowing as he contemplated the taste. “Tap-Dance Delight…” he muttered to himself. “Slightly on the salty side, a hint of...” He paused, sighing. “Jacques, for the last time,  _ please _ stop putting rosewater in everything.”

“Sorry boss.”

“And for the love of god,” he continued, maintaining eye contact with a highly uncomfortable Julian. “Stop  _ flirting _ with the  _ customers _ .”

Leticia almost banged her head on the counter as she doubled over with laughter. Jacques held out his hands in protest, despite the fact that John was still facing away from him. “It wasn’t flirting, Mr. Cameron, I swear! Me and Julian are cool, right, kid?” Julian smiled brightly at him. “See?”

“Alright, fine. But no rosewater, Jacques, I’m serious this time.” John sighed again, setting the cup down. Julian glanced warily at it.

“So… I can stay?” He looked pleadingly at Leticia, who raised an eyebrow as if asking what she was  _ possibly  _ supposed to do when John got like this.

The barista pursed his lips. “ _ Fine _ ,” he said, hands on his hips. “As long as you buy something else. Your drink is almost empty.” He stalked away, scolding Jacques for letting a line build up. (The line consisted of one single customer who had also, as had everyone else in the shop, been preoccupied with watching the spectacle John was creating.)

Julian stared sadly as his cup (and at the slight red lipstick mark left on the rim). He failed to notice Leticia walk over, jumping as she plopped down into the seat across from him, resting a foot on his bench. She handed him a new coffee, rolling her eyes as he tried to offer her money for it.

“We all saw John take your drink,” she snickered. “Ze least we at Orbit can do is compensate you for your loss. Or, at least for ze psychological damage you have sustained in ze ordeal.”

Julian smiled at her. “Thanks, Tish, it means a lot.” He took a sip, letting his eyes fall shut as the taste of coffee hit his tongue, along with lemon, peppermint, and, inexplicably, rosewater.

Leticia watched him, laughing at the look on his face. “I do not know how zese recipes work so well, but somehow zey do.” She glanced around the shop at the dozens of chattering customers. “I suppose John’s constant drama does not hurt, eizer.”

“He’s, uh, really something, isn’t he,” Julian said, the emotions in his voice unidentifiable. He gazed at John across the shop, watching him make something containing an alarming amount of foam.

The man’s slicked-back ginger hair and sharp, handsome features constantly attracted the attention (and affections) of men, women, and those who identified as neither from all across Paris, though it was well known that he had no interest in the fairer sex (not that it stopped them from trying). At the moment, he was dating a local actor named Cary (although it was rumored his real name was Archibald; really, it was no wonder he’d changed it). Whoever he was, he was the envy of many of the regulars. In fact, he'd had to stop coming by the shop during the day, as his visits, despite his local celebrity status, had actually hurt sales.

As the shop’s janitor, Julian had gotten to meet Cary a few times, usually when he came to pick up John after work to take him back to their shared apartment. He had to admit the man was handsome, though not necessarily  _ attractive _ ; while he was always kind and pleasant, there was something slightly fake about him, like he was still in acting mode even off the stage.

Of course, that was almost certainly jealousy talking. After all, everyone wanted to be with Mr. John Cameron.  _ Everyone _ .

“I love ze ambiguity of ‘somezing’,” Leticia replied, rousing Julian from his thoughts. “As it allows me, a rational person, to pretend you are speaking in ze negative.” She snapped her fingers in front of his face, making him jump.

“If it helps you sleep at night, Tish,” Julian retorted amicably, pushing back from the table. “I, uh, gotta go. See you at closing time?”

“Oh, yes, you are actually going to leave ze shop. We close in twenty minutes, mon ami, you are fooling no one!” she called after him as he hurried away, only stopping to wave at Jacques on his way out.

Once he was safely outside, Julian sprinted down the sidewalk, artfully dodging irritated passersby. Leticia was right; Orbit  _ did _ close in twenty minutes, and if he wasn’t back and in full janitor’s uniform by then she would probably whip him and, well, he just wasn’t into her that way. Luckily, though in no way coincidentally, his apartment was only a couple blocks away.

The Orbit staff often speculated in their free time that Julian was actually homeless, or at least that he lived in such a shithole that the shop was actually a  _ more _ desirable location to spend his days. You really couldn’t blame them for thinking he was poor; his everyday outfit was a dirty pair of jeans, a horribly faded t-shirt, and the ever-constant ragged beanie. One time they’d invited him to a nice company dinner (despite John’s protests) to celebrate some anniversary or other, and he’d worn a  _ hoodie _ .

In fact, the truth would probably blow their minds; Julian was nowhere near as destitute as he seemed. If you asked him, he’d probably say he dressed the way he did for the indie musician aesthetic (though perhaps not in so many words), but the truth was more that he simply didn’t care enough to try harder.

Either way, it worked pretty damn well, and he made enough off small local concerts and iTunes sales to afford a nice two-bedroom apartment, instruments and recording equipment, and all the coffee John made him buy in order to hang out at Orbit all day.

In all honesty, Julian didn't really  _ need _ the janitor job. If asked for justification, he would spout some nonsense about having a safety net in case his music career failed, but truthfully the only real benefit was it allowed him to be at the shop outside of business hours, which was admittedly a huge plus in his book. 

At his apartment, he quickly stripped and pulled on his (unflattering) burnt sienna uniform, not bothering to take off his shoes or beanie in his rush. He was on his way out the door when he heard loud squeaking coming from the other bedroom. Groaning, he poked his head in to see his mouse, Eldred, running in circles on the unmade guest bed.

“Oh my god, Ellie, what?” he asked in exasperation. She stopped and looked at him, tiny head tilted curiously. “I gotta go, ok? I'll see you later.”

She squeaked again, still staring at him.

“Fine,” he sighed, scooping her up and into his breast pocket, giving her a little pat. She squeaked happily, curling up against Julian’s chest.

Checking his phone, he cursed and raced out the door, keeping a protective hand over his pocket, the pom-pom on his hat bouncing against the back of his head.

He made it back to Orbit right as the clock struck seven, panting as he pushed past the final exiting customer.

Leticia stood in the middle of the shop, shaking her head at him. “You should be thanking ze god of your choice for getting you here on time,” she teased, pulling on her jacket.

“I don't… know the prayer… for not having your boss kill you…” he said, hopping up to sit on a table while he caught his breath. “But if I did, I'd say it more often than the Sh’ma.”

She snorted. “Keep praying, little man.”

“Oh, definitely. Hey, where's Mr. Cameron? Is he still here?”

“Unfortunately.” John strode out of the back office, a bottle of hair gel in one hand and a tube of lipstick in the other. “I'm late for a rendezvous with Archie. I  _ wanted  _ to close early, but apparently that would ‘hurt revenue’ and ‘run our business into the ground, you imbecile, be a professional for once in your life’.” He glared at Leticia, who returned the look unfazed.

“Oh, is that why you were trying to kick me out earlier?” Julian piped up. John rolled his eyes, slowly turning his head to look at the janitor.

“ _ What _ ,” he sighed, as if Julian was just  _ horribly  _ trying his patience.

“You know, when you yelled at me for loitering and then at Jacques for making my drink wrong and for maybe flirting with me and then, uh…” He trailed off at John’s blank expression. “Half an hour ago?”

“Doesn't ring a bell. Oh, for god’s  _ sake _ ,” John cursed, glancing down at his watch. “Just- stay- oh, never mind.” He dropped his items carelessly onto the counter, grabbed his coat, and raced out the door. The shop fell into silence, broken only by the lipstick rolling off the counter and onto the floor with a concerning cracking noise. 

“That was really weird,” Julian remarked, swinging his feet. “Is something wrong with Mr. Cameron?”

Leticia scoffed, rubbing at her temples. She squinted out the front windows, watching John furiously hail a cab. “Who in ze world could ever guess what is going on wiz him? I am his closest friend and even I am not quite sure.”

She placed her hand on the doorknob, feeling the cool metal as she decided whether to commit to turning it. “If I was forced to speculate, now, I would perhaps say ze problem may involve a Mr. Cary Grant. No reason.” Without waiting for a response, she exited quickly, raising a hand in farewell as the door fell shut behind her. 

Julian shook his head. “I'm still really confused,” he said. “Like, I'm probably even more confused now than before. Um, that's interesting about Mr. Cameron and his boyfriend, I guess. I dunno.” The silence of the shop pressed down on him, and he hummed a tune he'd been working on as he hopped off the table and went to grab a mop, settling in for a long evening.


	2. Chapter 2

“Do you have anything, uhhh… simple?”

John Cameron blinked at the two young women standing across the counter from him. “Wha-  _ simple _ ?”

“Yeah.” The shorter girl pushed her glasses up her nose, running a hand through her short-cropped dark hair. “I, um, I go to Starbucks most of the time, and just get, like, the same thing, usually. Your menu is just a little, uh, overwhelming?”

The barista’s eye twitched. “Overwhelming?  _ Overwhelming? _ I’ll have you know I’ve won  _ awards _ -”

The girl shifted closer to her companion, taking her hand as John continued ranting about Orbit’s premium selection of drinks. “Maybe we should just leave,” she whispered. “He’s kind of freaking me out.”

The taller girl laughed. “I kind of like him,” she replied, making no attempt to lower her volume. “In a hashtag relatable kind of way. Hey, maybe we’re actually related? You know, with the hair and everything.” She flipped her own ginger waves back over her shoulder. “But yeah, I don’t think he’s gonna stop anytime soon, and I still want coffee.”

Leticia and Jacques watched them leave from the other side of the shop, where they sat chatting as they waited for the mid-morning rush to begin.

“More lost customers,” Tish sighed, sticking a stirrer into her black coffee and swirling it around. “John should let me serve ze pretty girls, it is not exactly his area of expertise.”

Jacques rolled his eyes. “Oh, so just because he’s gay, he can’t talk ta girls?”

“No, Jacques, because he is John Cameron he cannot talk to girls.” She took a long drink, leaning back in her chair. “If Jonathan was attracted only to people he is able to interact with, he would not have very many options.”

Her friend snorted with laughter, spraying hot chocolate across the table. “Okay, I see your point. Hey, speakin’ ‘a which, where’s the kid? Shouldn’t he be here by now?”

Leticia reached over to the next table, grabbing a handful of napkins to throw at Jacques. “Oh, you are just going to leave zis disgusting mess until he comes on duty, hm?” she chided, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “Perhaps I should tell your boss.”

“Oh, no, don’t do that,” he deadpanned, mopping at the puddles of pinkish cocoa. “That lady scares the  _ shit _ out of me.”

“Oh, merde, I meant your ‘real boss’,” she corrected, copious finger quotes earning a chuckle out of Jacques. She crossed her arms on the table, leaning towards him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Or, no, perhaps I should tell him you were asking about ze janitor?”

“You wouldn’t.”

Tish raised an eyebrow. “Joooohn,” she called out. “Have you seen Julian yet today? He is normally here by zis time.” She smirked at Jacques, who was frantically shaking his head. “I’m sure we must  _ all _ be wondering about his whereabouts.”

John stopped halfway through mixing someone’s drink (though judging from the flask he had been pouring out of, it was most likely his own) and pulled out his phone. “Oh, yes, I suppose you’re right. It  _ is _ rather quiet, isn’t it.”

“Oh, oui, because  _ Julian _ is the one who causes so many problems,” Leticia muttered.

No sooner had John spoken than the door banged open, revealing a flustered Julian. “Sorry I'm late, slept in, didn't get very much sleep last night, I had this thing and then-”

“You don't even  _ work _ here!” John yelled, cutting him off. 

“Well, I mean, I do, but-”

“Never  _ mind _ .” The barista took a sip of whatever he was making, pursed his lips, and emptied the rest of the flask into the cup. “Do what you want, just leave me be.”

“No problem, Mr. Cameron!” Julian lifted his laptop bag off his shoulder and plopped it down on a table, sliding into his usual window seat. Tish and Jacques watched him pull out a computer and headphones and start tapping at the screen, leaning his head on one hand. John glared at him, but when the man didn’t look up he sniffed and went back to whatever he had been doing.

“Wow…” Tish breathed. “I have never seen Jonathan leave ze janitor alone so easily.”

Jacques nudged her with his elbow. “Hey, you should go check on him.”

She snorted. “John is fine, I am sure. He is probably just nursing a hangover.”

“Nah, nah, I meant the kid.”

Leticia raised her eyebrows at him. “Oh, you are worried about him, are you?” She reached over and booped him on the nose, deftly pulling back as he swatted at her hand. “Are you in loooove, Jacques-y?”

“No, no, of course not!” he replied quickly, raising his hands in protest. “He, uh, he reminds me of my little bro, back in the states.” Tish looked at him skeptically. “I’m serious! I haven’t seen the kid in years, not since my parents split and I moved over here to live with my aunt.” He looked down at the table, hiding his expression. “I dunno what he’s like, now, if he’s even still… but Jules, y’know, he’s a good kid. I wanna look out for him.”

“Hm. Alright, I believe you.” She reached out to ruffle Jacques’s hair, proud of him for sharing his feelings with her. She knew how important keeping a tough, stoic exterior was to him, and she appreciated the fact that he didn’t always feel the need to keep up the facade around her.

“Thanks, Tish.”

“You are very welcome, my friend. Now, mmm, if he is your brozer, does zat make him… hm, I suppose he would be my son, oui?”

Jacques jerked his head up, scowling at her. “For the last time, you ain’t my mom, Tish!”

“Oh really, so zat Mozer’s Day card, zat was-”

“It was a  _ joke _ , for fuck’s sake-”

Their conversation dissolved into friendly arguing, Leticia almost falling off her chair with laughter at one point.

Julian looked up from his work, pulling off one ear of his headphones to make sure nothing serious was going on, and smiling affectionately when he realized they were just having fun. He returned to his computer screen, smile fading as he saw the email that’d popped up in his inbox. It was from his producer, Marcel Chouinard, informing him that the show he’d been booked for that evening had been canceled. He sighed; he’d planned to use the money from the show to fix up his guitar, which had been dented during transit sometime the week before. Mr. Chouinard had convinced him not to ask for a down payment for the booking, saying it would persuade the clients to pay him a bigger overall fee.  _ So much for that, I guess. _

Julian leaned back, shutting his laptop and his eyes. He was meant to be editing a new song, but he didn’t have the heart to work on it just then. The music playing in his ears switched off with the computer, plunging him into silence. He pulled off the headphones with another sigh, setting them down.

“Oh, are you finally going to acknowledge me?”

“Wha- what?” He blinked, rubbing his eyes. “Mr. Cameron?”

Across the room, John was waving his arms above his head, trying to get the man’s attention. “We were  _ just _ talking about this  _ yesterday _ ,  _ Julian _ . No purchase, no…” He struggled to find an appropriate word that started with P, finally giving up with a huff. “No purchase, you leave my restaurant and stop taking seats from more, I don’t know,  _ valuable _ customers.”

“Oh, leave him alone, John, zere is no one else here,” Leticia told him, gesturing around the admittedly mostly empty shop.

“It’s ok, Tish, I was just gonna buy something anyways.” Julian stretched, yawning. “In- in a sec.” He put his forearms on the table as if he were going to brace himself to stand up, but instead shifted them closer together and slowly laid his head down on them. “In a sec…” he muttered again, closing his eyes.

Leticia shot a look at John. Over the years of their friendship they had spent enough time together to be able to at least vaguely communicate through looks and gestures, especially if the looks and gestures conveyed her annoyance or, the type of situation that seemed to pop up the most.

She raised her eyebrows meaningfully, gesturing with her head at the small kitchen area, and then at Julian. John responded with scowl, gesturing to himself and then putting his hands out in a forceful shrugging movement. She pursed her lips, looking directly at the drink which John had already finished making: Julian’s usual. John opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut as Leticia glared at him. He shrugged again, letting his shoulders drop in defeat.

“Julian!” he barked, wincing as Tish made a throat-slitting gesture at him. “For god’s sake,  _ fine _ .”

He grabbed the cup, stalking over to where Julian had seemingly nodded off, and carefully sat down across the table, brushing any loose crumbs off the chair. (Not that there were any; Julian was an excellent janitor.)

John set the drink down, artfully sliding it across the table with just enough force that it stopped less than an inch from the top of Julian’s head. He cleared his throat.

“Julian. Julian. Wake up. Julian. Julian. Julian. Julian.”

A ding rang through the shop as a young woman walked through the door. John looked pleadingly at Leticia, who narrowed her eyes and got up to help the customer. He pouted, crossing his arms.

“Julian. Julian. Julian. Julian.  _ Julian _ .”

Julian shifted, turning his head. “I'm awake, Mr. Cameron, I'm awake, I promise,” he mumbled.

John sighed. “Drink your coffee, you'll feel better.”

“Coffee… yeah…” He lifted his head sleepily, staring dazedly into space. “Can I have some coffee? I- oh, never mind.” He yawned and took a sip. “Um… thank you, Mr. Cameron.”

“Yes, well, this is a respectable business, not your bedroom.” The barista looked away, blushing slightly. “Tish, can I get back to work? Tish? Oh, goddamnit.”

She flicked him off from behind the counter and went back to flirting with the customer, a young, very punk-looking woman with a side shave, wearing a leather jacket with some sort of large logo on the back. John rolled his eyes. 

“Rampant unprofessionalism, every one of them,” he muttered, returning her gesture. He turned back to Julian, who was halfway through his drink and looked much more alert than before. “Listen, I absolutely would not care under normal circumstances, but Leticia will kill me if I don't ask, so… what is. Uh. Up.”

Julian tilted his head in confusion. “What?”

“You know. Why…” John waved his hand ambiguously. “Why are you falling asleep in my restaurant.”

“Oh.” He clutched the cup tighter, warmth seeping into his hands. “My, um, my producer moved some stuff around, and gave me this sort of deadline that I thought was supposed to be next week, and I only saw the message after my shift here, so I didn't have that much time, and, um, yeah…”

“Your  _ what _ ?”

“My- my what-what?”

John narrowed his eyes. “You're a  _ janitor _ . You don't have a producer.”

“I mean? I do? For my music stuff?”

“Oh, for god’s sake, what are you even  _ talking _ about. Music? What on earth?”

Julian pulled out his phone, opening iTunes and doing a quick search. He held out the screen for John to see. “I have three albums out? You- did you think I lived on a part-time janitor’s salary?” He giggled. “No offense, Mr. Cameron, but not with what you pay.”

“You- how the- I don't-” John sputtered, grabbing the phone from him and peering intently at the screen. “Did y’all know about this?” he asked, directing the question at Leticia and Jacques.

“Ok, understand that we will come back to ze fact zat you just said ‘y'all’,” Leticia said, hands on her hips. “But yes, of course. We love Julian’s music.”

“I'm listenin’ to some a’ it right now,” Jacques piped up.

“I- ugh, this is too much,” John groaned, rubbing at his temples. He rose, squeezing his eyes shut as the sun rose just above the building across the street, shining directly into his face. “I need to- something.”

Leticia raised an eyebrow. “Oh, why is zis such a stunning revelation, John. Would you razer ze boy starve to deaz?”

“I- oh, never mind.” He stormed off into the back office, snagging his own drink as he passed by.

“Oh, mon dieu, always ze drama king.” She sighed, grabbing a piece of paper from under the counter and scribbling her number on it, which she held out to the woman she’d been talking to. “I hate to leave such a pretty face, madam Renée, but I am afraid I must go check on him.”

Renée smiled brightly. “Ah, don' worry, Tish,” she said, strong Australian accent at odds with her appearance. “It's been a blast meetin’ ya.” She hesitated. “I, uh…  I don' suppose I could be gettin’ my drink, yeah?”

Tish gasped. “Oh! I am so sorry, it seems to have slipped my mind. Jacques, please get ze lady her drink.” She smiled apologetically, rushing after John.

Jacques muttered something about “lesbians”, grumpily getting up to do his actual job.

Julian’s phone vibrated, notifying him of a new email from Mr. Chouinard, asking him about his progress on the next imminent deadline. He sighed, opening his computer and taking another sip of his drink. “Hey Jacques?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“When you're done with her, could I get another one of these?”

“Yeah, no prob. Rosewater or nah?”

“Ummm… surprise me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH I forgot to mention (as per usual), Renée belongs to [JustADumbWriter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/JustADumbWriter/pseuds/JustADumbWriter)!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a shorter chapter this time, but also it's been SIX FUCKIN MONTHS so I really wanted to get at least something up :)
> 
> There'll probably be another (possibly also short) chapter up in the next week or so, but we'll see how it goes with school starting and everything!

Leticia slipped into the back office, lightly shutting the door behind. She stared down at John, sitting behind the desk with his head in his hands. A small fan sat on the surface next to him, softly blowing his bangs back and forth.

“John,” she murmured, leaning forward. “Are you alright? You are making me nervous.”

He sighed, slumping down further. “It’s _nothing_ , Tish, I’m just tired and hungover,” he replied, in a voice that made it clear he wanted her to ask him about whatever little problem was bothering him that day. When she didn’t say anything, he peeked out between his fingers to see her still staring at him with her hands on her hips. “What?”

“John, I don’t have time for zis today. It is Saturday, the shop is very busy.” She pursed her lips, shifting her weight back towards the door. She really didn’t have time for John’s bullshit: recently single, Leticia had been devoting as much energy as she could (that is, what she could spare from single-handedly running Orbit Coffee) to flirting with every cute girl that came into the shop. And now, her boss’s antics had interrupted even that!

She glanced backwards towards the door, quickly, almost instinctively, but not quick enough to evade John’s notice.

“If there’s somewhere you’d rather be?”

“Yes, zere is, I just told you that,” Leticia retorted. “If you are not going to man ze counter, I need to be out zere.”

“Oh. Well, then. I, uh, I won’t keep you.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, reaching for the doorknob, but… “John,” she said, cursing herself for not just going back to her damn job. “Is zere _actually_ somezing wrong?” Normally, yes, she’d write this off as normal drama, but he’d never given up so easily or so meekly before.

“No, Tish, really, I’m fine.” He reached out to turn the fan down, and she caught a glimpse of a wet streak on his cheek.

“Oh, Johnathan.” She moved around the desk, adjusting her dress before taking a seat on the edge. She placed a hand on his shoulder, expecting him to shrug it off but meeting no resistance. “Please, tell me, what is ze matter?”

“It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter. I’m just being ridiculous.”

Leticia stifled a laugh. “Oh, you are being ridiculous, is zat right? Well, I must call an ambulance, if zat is ze case. What an emergency!” She paused, wincing at his lack of a reaction. “Ok, not ze time, alright. Ummm…” She thought for a minute, rubbing her hand in small circles on his back. “You should talk about what is wrong, my friend. It is no good to bottle up your emotions like zis.”

John chuckled wryly. “No, I wouldn’t imagine so.” He took a deep breath, sitting up and wiping at his eyes. “Arch- Archibald and I had a small fight last night. It’s really not such a big deal.” He gave Tish a tight smile, placing his hand over hers. “Though I really do appreciate your concern. I don’t deserve a friend like you.”

She frowned at him, twining their fingers together. “Not wiz zat attitude, mister. Now, I am not leaving until you tell me _everyzing_.” She squeezed his hand lightly, simultaneously secretly adjusting her grip into an aikido hold that would cause immense pain if he tried to get up or push her away. Luckily (for him), he stayed seated, simply leaning back and rolling his eyes. (Leticia saw a hint of what she could tell was gratitude on his face, but declined to comment on either that or the eye roll.)

“It really was just a fight,” John said, glancing away from Tish’s deadly serious expression.

“Hm, yes, I heard. And?”

“And… we were out at a club, and Archie left me to go talk to some _fans_ , and I had to sit in the corner by myself for an hour before I finally called an Uber to take me back to our fucking _shared apartment_ , and he finally stumbled in at 1 am missing a sock, and _I don’t know_.” He laid his free hand on his chest, as if to calm his suddenly ragged breathing. “I told you it was nothing.”

Leticia scooted off the desk, pulling him into a gentle hug. “Zat isn’t nozing.” She leaned back, meeting his eyes. “Thank you for telling me. Do you want to talk more about it?”

“No, no, just saying it out loud helped a lot.” He pushed her away and gave her another smile, this one more genuine, though his eyes quickly flickered away from her intense gaze. “Go back to work, I’m sure Jacques has already set something on fire in the five minutes you’ve been gone.”

“Oh, wow, you’re more worried about Jacques zan ze janitor? Zat really is unusual.”

John groaned, dropping his head on the desk with an alarming clunk. “God, I had _nearly_ forgotten about the damn janitor. My sincerest thanks for reminding me.”

 “Mon dieu, I zought you two were getting along better earlier? You even brought him coffee and everyzing!”

“Because you _made_ me,” he scoffed.

“Who, me?” Leticia replied innocently. “All I did was make a few gestures. You interpreted zem all on your own.”

“Oh, fuck _off_.”

“Johnathan!” she gasped. “Language!” She stood, nudging him with her foot to make him look up. “I’m going back to work. I’ll let you off ze hook zis time, ok? But please, John, talk to your boyfriend. We can't take much more of this.” She gestured around her, as if to summon the disapproving spirits of the other baristas.

He waved her off, turning the poor fan up even higher and wiping sweat off his forehead. “Yes, yes, alright,” he said over the loud whirring. “Go, I don’t know, throw the janitor out or something.”

“Oh, are you my boss now or somezing?”

“Leticia!”

“Fine, fine. But if you want Julian gone, deal wiz him yourself. I am sure we will all have more fun zat way.” The manager dodged a poorly thrown stress ball, ducking back into the café with a laugh. She surveyed the room, nodding contentedly before eventually heading back to work. Renée was unfortunately long gone by that point; she would’ve been a nice distraction from John’s (and now Leticia’s) problems. She grimaced, gripping the counter as she punched in an order. If she found out _that man_ was cheating on her friend… well, let’s just say he wouldn’t be doing much acting after that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Sonny, this is another Tish-heavy chapter. But hey, the more practice your accent gets, the better you'll be at it!!
> 
> Also, this one is another "shorter" one, but tbh that's prob how most of them will be in the future, we'll see ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“Are you not a little young to be drinking zis much coffee?” Leticia stared dubiously down at the teenage girl in front of her, who had just ordered a quadruple shot of espresso with lemon. “Where are your parents?”

“I’m thir- fourteen years old!” the girl replied indignantly, hands on her hips. “I have money, I can buy coffee if I want to.”

 “And what sort of accent is that?” John asked from the other register, wrinkling his nose. “ _Canadian_?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m from Canada, but-”

“Oh, then no service.”

Leticia leaned over to smack him upside the head, turning it into a wave at the last moment as Julian walked through the door. “Jules! How are you?”

The customer turned to look as well, throwing up her hands in annoyance. “Ok, but you’re cool with _that_ kid? What is he, _twelve_?”

“I’m thirty-seven!” he called back, making the girl scoff.

“This is dumb, I’m going to Tim Horton’s,” she said, turning on her heel and stomping out of the shop.

Julian watched her go, raising his eyebrows. “Uhhh… Mr. Cameron, did you say something mean about Canadians again?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Leticia rolled her eyes. “I can go fetch ze security footage, if you would like.”

The barista laughed. “We don’t have security cameras anymore. I needed room for, er, personal documents on the office computer.” A nearby woman in a hoodie jerked her head up to stare at him, and he met her eyes unfazed. “What? I have needs- wait, no, that doesn’t sound right. Never mind.”

Jacques took a break from filling an order to make a series of gagging motions, and even Julian looked a little weirded out. “I’m just gonna, uh, go over here,” he said, scooting away from the counter.

“You’re all so immature,” John scoffed. “Julian, come back.”

The janitor looked behind him, then back towards Mr. Cameron, pointing at himself. “Do you… need something?”

“Yes, your nubile young body,” the barista replied, rolling his eyes. “Oh, stop blushing and come buy something, for god’s sake.”

Leticia shot a look at Jacques behind John’s back. “You seem like you’re in a good mood today, John. Has somezing happened?”

He gestured for the next customer, brushing a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “Ah, Archie took me out for dinner last night. It was quite nice. And Julian, please, I already made you a drink, don’t give me a reason to get mad at you.”

Julian wandered up to the counter and accepted the offered cup. “Um, thank you Mr. Cameron. While, uh, while you’re in a good mood… can I ask you something?”

John didn’t smile, but he also didn’t scowl or make any other terrifying expressions, which was better than nothing. “You can ask, though I won’t promise I’ll actually answer.”

“Um…” The janitor hesitated again, biting his lip. “Another one of my gigs just got canceled, scheduling conflict or something, and I’m kind of a little bit low on funds right now, so-”

“No, you can't have a raise. I don’t care what the union says.”

“I, uh, I was actually gonna ask if I could do a show here?”

John sighed. “Julian, what part of ‘you can’t have a raise’ makes you think I’m going to pay you to serenade my customers? And serenade them right out the door, I’m _sure_.”

“You idiot, cut ze boy some slack,” Leticia chided. “Besides, he just wants publicity to boost album sales, right, Julian?”

“Yeah, exactly!” he agreed, giving her an admiring thumbs-up. “How’d you know that?”

“Ah, well, it’s a little complicated. Eizer way, we’d be happy to host you, wouldn’t we, Johnathan?” She poked him in the ribs and he winced, nodding hesitantly. “Here, come back to ze office and we’ll go over ze details. Jacques, keep an eye on Mr. Cameron.

“Sure thing, boss!” the bartender replied, saluting.

John side-eyed him, pouting. “Why do you never call me boss?”

“I, uh-”

“Come, Jules, before John kills ze man,” Leticia said, shuffling the janitor into the back of the shop. He tried looking back over his shoulder at the squabbling men but was too late as the manager pushed him through a door and slammed it shut behind them.

“Aw, Tish, I wanted to see. John almost never gets mad at anyone ‘cept me and I can’t even enjoy it.”

She pursed her lips. “What about zat Canada girl? Zat was five minutes ago, you rubbernecker. Anyways, we’re here for a reason.”

“Psh, fine.” Julian hopped up on the desk. “I can sit here, right? John has probably done worse stuff up here.”

“I- cannot argue with zat,” Leticia snickered. She reached past him, pulling a calendar off the wall and examining it. “Yes, as I zought, we have absolutely no events scheduled for the next, hm, ever.”

The janitor leaned over to look at the page. “Wow, you’re not kidding,” he said, craning his head to read the few scattered words. “The only things on here for this month are Pierre’s birthday and the season premiere of Scandal.” He ran his finger along the lines, biting his lip. “Um… I think next Saturday would be the best, is that ok?”

“Of course, mon ami,” she said cheerfully, penciling him in. “I hear Saturdays are ze most profitable for concerts, oui?”

Julian looked at her curiously. “Yeah… how d’you know so much about music stuff?”

“Hmm. Zat is a good question.” Leticia checked her watch, furrowing her brow. “Ze boys can survive a few more minutes, I am sure, so I will stay and explain.” She gracefully took a seat on the desk beside him, superior height saving her from any kind of hopping. “Ah, it feels like only yesterday zat I was having anozer serious conversation from zis very desk. Was it yesterday? Oh, perhaps it was indeed.”

“Serious?”

“Well, perhaps not _as_ serious. It is just…” She sighed deeply, sounding a lot more like typical-John-Cameron than she would ever want to. “My former girlfriend. Melody Pérez.”

“Holy shit, you dated _Melody P_ _érez?_ ”

“Julian, language!”

He laughed, earning a playful cuff on the ear. “No, but seriously, Melody Pérez is, like, the most famous music producer in Paris. Maybe all of France? She’s so amazing, I can’t-” He stopped, meeting Leticia’s glare apologetically. “I mean, actually yeah, I can believe you went out with her.”

“I hope so, mister, because it happened. But… she wanted to ‘focus more on her work’, or what have you.” She sighed again, leaning into Julian, who put an arm around her shoulders. “I just miss her a lot.”

“Yeah, I know. But at least you learned all that cool stuff about music production, right?”

Leticia snorted. “Some consolation prize, I am sure.” She stretched, pushing Julian’s arm away. “Anyways, I am fine. Now, I have shared my story. What sort of, mm, ‘tea’ do you have for me?”

“Oh, uh, well, I-”

They both jumped as they heard a loud crash from outside the office, stopping Julian before he could begin. Tish grimaced apologetically and rushed out the door, the janitor following right behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Come chill with me @ rotatinghumancircus.tumblr.com :D


End file.
